I started blogging in 2010 when we moved to Houston.
At first I had ALL of theses ideas and I was able to articulate most of them in daily posts. It was pretty much lots of things I had in my brain that needed somewhere to be dumped so I blogged. Over time I’ve learned some valuable lessons about blogging like it’s hard and you say things that can never be erased.
There’s decent information in my older posts for sure. But I won’t go back and read them. I also won’t go back and delete them.
I should definitely delete at least 20% of them. Ok, maybe more like 60%.
Some of the posts were well-intentioned but came across as judgmental. Gah. Embarrassing. Some posts were mean. Some were funny. Some were sarcastic. And some, if you read closely, revealed anxiety and depression and occasional hate. In the past year or so I’v tried to have more humorous and thought provoking posts over informational or you’re-doing-it-wrong posts.
The same person who wrote those posts isn’t the same person I am today. Let me pause a moment to shudder as I remember some of the real shit I posted.
Sidenote: As I am writing this post right now my husband looked at my and said, “Are you blogging?” I replied, “Yes.” Cautiously he asked, “Aaarrre you allllright?? Are you doing this in anger??” “Are you blogging about me?!?!” “What did I do this time?!?!”
There are often long pauses in my blog posts these days. Two words: Four kids. Three words: I unschool them. Four words: This shit is hard.
I also don’t have anyone breathing down my neck to write and I’m not getting paid for it so the motivation (and time) to do so has to come from me. Also, I need to add something to my blog because I have so much content on this blog now that I have to actually pay for space. I need to remedy that and either do that amazon affiliate thing or something to pay my annual fees to keep this site up. For realz, biznitches. It is now occurring to me that I am having to PAY you to read this. WTF?!?!
Anyway, back to why I won’t read my old blogs. I suppose I’m figuring out that writing is an art and it’s hard to go back and look at your earlier work or musings. All of that crap was necessary for me to grow though. I also like to think that I don’t just reveal just my good days.
I will dance in front of my kids because if you haven’t realized by now I have a dance background. My daughters will try to mimic me and occasionally get frustrated with themselves that they cannot exactly match my footsteps or body movements. I’ve heard them say to me, “You’re so good mom! Why can’t I do that?!?!” They weren’t privy to my crappy dance days. Well, I mean I still have them but I’m much more coordinated now that I was when I started.
A couple years ago I picked up a camera and started to learn the art of taking pictures. Yup, that’s an art. I’ll never be done learning that either. My old pictures are crap too.
Art is a direct reflection of life. I am a dancer, wife, mother, writer, and photographer. All of these things are art for me. There are days when I want to stop doing at least one if not all of them at once. I look back at when I first started doing these things and I want to squirm, rip up, hide, or make excuses for what was produced back then. That shit is embarrassing but necessary.
I feel obligated to remain vulnerable. My children more than anything make me realize how important vulnerability is. I am not perfect in any area of my life and never want to intentionally hide my flaws to appear as such. I want to be open and honest about my flaws, especially to them.
We all have to start somewhere. For me it was necessary to dump the crap first and slowly get to my heart. Despite what my husband says I do have a heart (even though some days it’s cold and black but it’s there!). I don’t necessarily think what I put on my blog posts now is perfection or extreme high quality or my high school AP English teacher wouldn’t still slap a C for grammar/structure on it but I’m not as embarrassed by it.
Who knows maybe another five years from now I will want to delete this whole blog and leave no trace I ever wrote online. (Except I think that’s impossible with the NSA and the internet being the internet.)
Eh. I like to say that through art we become better versions of ourselves. Hopefully, for me , this is what is happening.